


He was the First to Recognize Me

by scoop-of-shirbert (Miss_Mortimer)



Series: Bartending!AU [2]
Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Season 1 Episode 3 “But What Is So Headstrong as Youth?”
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 07:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11481861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mortimer/pseuds/scoop-of-shirbert
Summary: Gilbert Blythe is an aspiring doctor, with an overeager fan club, making ends meet by working as a bartender just off campus. Anne Shirley is a second year entry student, who's covering the cost of tuition with shifts at the same bar. This is a "prequel" to As Much Soul as You, as it occurs in the same universe, only earlier in time. Also known as "A Second and Third Chance to Ruin Your Good First Impression" and "Anne Shirley meets Gilbert Blythe Three Times."





	He was the First to Recognize Me

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to bebethsas (tumblr) for editing and helping with the concept. See end notes for specific bar/drink jargon.
> 
> "I have always known myself, but he was the first to recognize me, and to love what he saw." 
> 
> Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë

By her third evening behind the bar, Anne Shirley is fairly well adjusted to the place. It’s smaller than other spots, but cosy in its own way. It’s clean, and nice enough, and she properly feels that she belongs. _Violet Vale_ is by no means the nicest or most popular hangout, but Anne prefers it that way. The long wooden counter is just the right height, and the dark stain gives it a moody vibe. The routine of it all is a special comfort. Her feet have memorized the path between her room and the back door, and they wind their way through campus and into the little section of Avonlea that borders the university. Everything is as it should be. She’s clocked in, and tying her apron when the balance of the universe finally shifts—unbeknownst to Anne herself.

A comment in passing, _Anne, I’ll need you to manage the front by yourself at the end of the shift—remember I told you about Gil, the upperclassmen? He’s going to stop in later to fill out some paperwork._ And suddenly, something’s changed.

Anne does remember the conversation, and the rave reviews her boss had given the other bartender. Apparently, he’d taken some time off from school. Now was returning. Anne didn’t consider it all that remarkable. She hoped that he was as nice as the rest of the staff, and that he might show her a few tricks.

Later, just before closing, she sees a flash of dark hair step into the back office. The sound of laughter and muted talking carries when she goes to clock out, but Gil himself makes no appearance.

The walk back to campus is heightened by the darkness and the cool air of the late summer night. The shadows creep all around her, and every streetlight looms over as if beyond its reach. The haunting quality has its own charm. Anne makes a mental note to check out some gothic fiction the next time she’s in the library. The mood is too perfect to spoil.

Like a hungry wolf in the depths of a forest, a figure emerges from around a building’s corner. It takes a moment for his face to register—and even then—she can’t quite place the face.

His voice breaks the rhythm of the night, _Little Annie, girls shouldn’t be out this late by themselves—_ the world is stagnant in its wake.

 _Who are you?_ Anne isn’t sure where her voice crept up from, but she’s glad it sounds relatively stable. The boy just laughs. _Please move out of my way; I need to get home._

 _Not so fast, Annie. Maybe you don’t remember me, but I remember you._ He’s moving closer now. Anne’s feet feel like boulders, un-moveable and solidly resisting her flight response. She can’t seem to form words. His towering frame hangs above her. Hours seem to pass as he bends down to look her directly in the eyes. _Hey, Annie._

— — —

Gilbert Blythe is happy to be back at school. Being here means that things are alright with his dad, and that he doesn’t need to worry as much. He still worries. Gilbert counts it as a win that nobody had asked too many prying questions about his home situation. Bell was nice enough to give him his job back at the bar, and the owner had seemed more welcoming than pitying. Gilbert had caught a quick glance of the new girl too—and she was certainly an improvement on the whole experience. He’d watched her free pour a martini, and then quickly ducked into Bell’s office before she’d seen him staring. He was impressed, and he’d told Bell as much, _She’s good. Invested._

He’d happened to see her crossing the street as he made his way back to campus, only to find her route to be pretty similar. Gilbert’s working up the courage introduce himself, or at least not come across as creepy, when he sees Billy Andrews wave off his group to walk up to the new girl.

The underclassmen looked terrified as Billy sneered down at her—honestly, what else was he supposed to do?

_— — —_

Not to be overly dramatic, but Anne was almost certain she couldn’t escape. Frozen in place, with this creep inching ever closer, and the whole world swallowing her whole, she was helpless. It was exactly the position that she dreaded. Statistics about sexual assault amongst students and worst-case scenarios involving abduction swirled together in her head. Damn her imagination.

Like a beacon in the distance, a lighthouse on a moonless night, she heard it, _Hey Billy, what are you doing?_ The demon in front of her blinked and straightened. _I thought you lived over by the physics building, right?_ She heard some purposeful footsteps approach. Anne was too afraid to look behind her, but she watched the monster before her transform back into a drunk, disheveled student.

He spoke then, _Oh hey buddy, I didn’t think you were coming back until next semester._ The unknown figure behind her said nothing, but she could feel his presence. Her harasser flicked his eyes between her and, presumably, the guy behind her. _I guess I should be getting home, you know? Classes starting soon and all? I’ll see you around, Gilbert._ And then he was gone, suddenly Anne could breathe again, and the world started moving again.

She turns quickly, murmurs a quiet _Thanks_ , and tries to scamper off into the night. She makes it about two paces before she hears the first one, _Wait!_ Anne feels her cheeks begin to warm, and she moves her scamper into a brisk walk. _Hey, wait!_ Anne isn’t confident that she can outrun him, considering the brief look at him she got, but the pool of nerves swelling in her stomach at the _humiliation_ of it begs to differ. Normally, she’s more fight than flight, but not tonight. Anne is convinced that she might just make it to freedom, but alas, a hand reaches out and grabs her wrist, _Wait a second._ Anne stills, and slowly turns around as the grip retreats.

The streetlight’s glow illuminates his face, and all Anne can think is that her savior might be especially handsome. It could be the light, or a heavy case of white knight syndrome. And it’s not because he’s handsome that she forgives him for grabbing her in the night and starts the conversation. It’s one hundred percent because Marilla would skin her alive for being unnecessarily rude.

She tries not to look at him directly as she speaks, _I’m sorry for running away, and thank you for helping me._

— — —

Gilbert honestly doesn’t know what to make of her. She’s something alright, and the yellow hued light is doing wonders for her hair. Oh, the hair, Gilbert can’t stop looking at its shine, and he’s pretty sure he was supposed to respond already. _Don’t worry about it. Billy Andrews is an ass, and I’m sorry he picked you to prey on._

The girl chuckles at that—and Gilbert almost goes weak at the knees. _Billy Andrews? I knew he looked familiar._

He counters, trying to act casual, _Do you know him, then?_ He’s thankful when she brushes it off, _My roommate pointed him out at a party, I think, but I’ve never spoken to him._ She laughs to herself again, _I thought it looked skeevy as hell when I first saw him, and I said as much. Well,_ she pauses slightly, _those weren’t exactly my exact words. Is that what he was mad about? Who would have told him that? Who knows. I’m Anne by the way._

She stretches out her hand, the same dainty wrist he’d grabbed, and he takes it. _Gilbert. I also work at the ’Vale. I tried to catch you on your way out to introduce myself, but I missed my chance._

Anne smiles at that. _The ‘Vale? I haven’t heard it called that. Granted, I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, but still._

Gilbert squashes the urge to offer to show her around (especially all his spots), and settles for, _Sure, the ‘Vale. That’s what all the cool kids call it, anyway. I should know, I’m cooler than cool._

 _Ice cold?_ Gilbert is sure he likes her now.

 _Absolutely. Which way are you headed, Anne?_ He’s secretly pleased that she lets him walk with her, in relative silence. He’s not so secretly pleased that she takes his number, even if all he has to offer with it is a nervous smile, a crumbled bar napkin (riddled with ink marks from when his lucky pen was buying him time), and a soft plea to let him be there again. And if he has to walk an extra ten minutes out of his way to escort her to her dorm, then that’s a secret between him and the universe.

====

Anne is running late. Not late enough to actually _be_ _late_ , but late enough that she won’t have time to carefully tie her apron and slowly go through her pre-shift routine. Anne is running late and its mostly Josie’s fault. Jose and Ruby, her _beloved suite-mates_ are sitting in the common living room chatting away, while Anne runs around frantically.

Bits and pieces of their conversation float in and out of Anne’s perception, and it seems the special filter she has for Josie’s voice is failing. Josie’s relationship “advice” is usually ripped straight from the pages of some cheap magazine, but Ruby eats it up—and even Diana seems inclined to nod along on more than one occasion. _Ruby, we’re lucky we’re blonde. Diana’s hair is brunette, which can be attractive in its own way… Your hair, Ruby, isn’t as pure blonde as mine, but how would you ever get a guy like Dr. Blythe if it was something…_ she looks pointedly at Anne, who looks away _uglier?_ Anne turns her back, rummaging through drawers she’s already checked, and she can only imagine Ruby’s silence to mean her agreement. Anne purposefully makes quite a bit of noise as she looks around only slowing down when she’s sure the conversation has shifted.

 _Dr. Blythe is way too cool for that, Ruby. He doesn’t go clubbing, because he’s more mature than other guys._ Anne is digging through the basket on the counter, looking desperately for her earbuds. _But Josie, we go clubbing? Are we immature?_ Anne has to stifle a giggle, because she couldn’t argue with the logic there. She sprints back to her and Diana’s room, glancing at the dumbstruck Josie on her way.

Diana is sitting on the bed, holding out the earbuds. _You left them in your bed again. Are they still discussing Dr. Blythe?_

Anne grabs them and stuff them into her bag. _Of course, what else do they ever talk about? I’m beginning to think he exists only in their imaginations._ Diana hands her a hairbrush and Anne nods in thanks. _Two weeks and I’ve heard plenty about him, but not once has he been spotted._

 _Oh Anne,_ Diana sighs, _Just wait until he does come back to campus, there’s likely to be riots._ Diana leans in behind Anne, looking at her in the mirror, and does her best impression of Josie, _He’s just so extremely accomplished, and handsome, and intelligent, and handsome, and just dying to meet his fans._ Both girls giggle.

Anne turns quickly, hugging her roommate and best friend quickly. _Diana, I’ve got to go. Sorry about leaving you alone with the squeal squad for the night. Call me if you need anything._ Anne darts out of the room and runs out of the building, trying to keep her pace quick without building up too much of a sweat.

— — —

Gilbert Blythe does not do regular shifts. Partly out of his rotating study schedule, and partly to dodge overeager girls looking to paw and drool. Bell’s always on his back about keeping more regular hours, but they worked out a deal his first year behind the bar. He’s been reconsidering that policy lately, actually. There’s a schedule he’s been subtly aligning himself to recently, which just so happens to align with Anne Shirley’s shifts wherever possible— _accidentally,_ of course. It’s only been a week, so it’s not as if anyone has noticed.

Gilbert’s trying his best to focus on the B-52 shot he’s floating when he spots the flash of red braids from the corner of his eye. He nearly drops the bottle of Triple Sec on the floor then and there. When Gilbert finishes the last one in the line, he turns for moment, and takes a nice deep breath. He can’t be thinking about whether or not Anne is watching his flame technique or not. This one is for the group of guys who ordered the ridiculous shots, and not for the girl quickly tying her apron behind him. Gilbert counts himself lucky that he gets out unscathed. He decides that he needs to focus, and beside some polite conversation, he tries his best to stay out of her way for the next hour.

So, when Anne Shirley comes up to talk to him of her own accord, he can’t possibly resist the opportunity to show off.

— — —

There’s a lull in the crowd. It was a relatively quiet night to begin with, aside from the guys ordering shots when she walked in. Anne is pretty confident in her abilities to make anything on the menu, but Bell had gone on and on about _Gil’s original drinks_. She asks him to _show her one, since there aren’t too many customers_. Anne worries a bit that she’s overstepping her bounds, especially because he seems so nonchalant about the request. He’d seemed like a nice guy, right? He starts pulling out all sorts of ingredients, and points at a stool, _Sit_. She’s not sure it was a request.

Watching him make it is incredible. She isn’t sure if it’s rehearsed precision, or just deft skill, but it’s definitely impressive. Maybe he’s flipping the bottle too much, and maybe the twist didn’t require such a dramatic flourish, but she can definitely see the appeal. It’s not _her_ style _per se_. It works on the customers alright. Anne can only roll her eyes when the girls come up to the counter with their expectant eyes and the flirty smiles. 

She’s so lost in her own thoughts, she doesn’t even notice he’s finished until he taps the counter in front of her. She looks up, and he chuckles to himself. _Were you even paying attention, Anne?_ She does her best to pretend she’s not embarrassed.

 _What’s this?_ Anne looks down as she speaks, motioning to the martini glass sitting before her, a twist of lemon and a slice of ginger resting on the pale yellow-orange liquid. _What do you think it is?_ Either he’s decided to go with the Socratic method, or he’s being really irritating.

Anne raises the glass and sniffs it, _It smells like vodka._ She takes a small sip. _It tastes like Vodka too. And lemon._ Another sip. _And ginger?_ She looks up at him curiously.

Gilbert smiles. _It’s essentially a cosmopolitan, made with carrot juice instead of cranberry, fresh squeezed lemon instead of lime, fresh ginger, and honey._ He looks directly at her as he speaks, and it’s a little unnerving. _Made for the very first time right here, right now._ He reaches out and gestures at her left braid with two fingers. _Inspired by your hair, Carrots._

Anne can feel the anger welling up inside of her. The audacity! If he hadn’t wanted to help her, he could have just said so. She presses her lips together in anger, and grabs the drink with one hand. Without any of the flourish of his performance, Anne swiftly reaches up and pours the tackless joke of a drink up over his head. She watches as the liquid drips down onto his shirt for moment, just catching the smile vanish from his face. She loudly announces that _she’s going on her break_.

Anne turns and storms into the bathroom, tears streaming down her cheeks. She’s locked the door, but can’t seem to make herself stop crying. She’s murmuring to herself, _Josie was right_ and _All boys are dumb jerks_ , but neither seem as funny as they would’ve been earlier. Anne certainly isn’t laughing at it. After a while, she stares at her reflection in the mirror, all puffy eyes and stringy red hair, and tries her best to wipe it all away.

— — —

Gilbert is not quite sure what he’s done wrong. He runs the scene over and over as he continues to work, soaking wet and smelling of vodka. Anne had left, so he was holding down the fort as best as he could, constantly glancing over at the restroom. She’d been gone nearly fifteen minutes when she emerged, head held high and unwilling to meet his eyes. As she moves closer, he can see that she’d been crying. He curses himself under his breath. He spent a whole week trying to think of a good way to get her attention, and then when she hands it to him on a silver platter, he screws it up. Truly an amazing effort by Gilbert Blythe. 

He can’t stop looking over at her for the rest of the night. Every woman that lingers at the counter is a distraction, not a customer to be wooed into a better tip. He can’t even flirt correctly without thinking of his earlier failure. When Bell comes over to ask _whether they were having a wet shirt contest now_ , Gilbert tries his best to laugh it off, _I tripped and fell backwards, pouring my own damn drink all over myself, can you believe it?_ It’s an unbelievable story, but it spares everyone a large discussion. He hopes Anne appreciates it, or at least sees it for the apology hidden underneath, but her exasperated huff in response indicates otherwise.

When they’ve stacked all the chairs and wiped everything down for the night, Anne hurries to leave. Gilbert forgoes the deep cleaning he was going to give himself, and tries to catch up. Just several paces behind, and hoping for a chance to apologize, he’s forced to give up several streets away. She’s ignoring his calls, and the last thing he wants is to be someone she hates. Gilbert knows that he’s messed up, and he just isn’t sure how to fix it.

Every shift afterwards has Gilbert swallowing the phantom stench of vodka and wincing when Anne’s anger gets turned on some unsuspecting pervert. He’s reminded time and again how close he was to be just another one of those slimy guys.

====

Anne had spent several days avoiding Gilbert, and mulling over her recently changed opinion of him. Maybe he wasn’t such a nice guy after all. He’d helped her with Billy Andrews, and he hadn’t tried to pull anything like that in the week and a half since. Then again, not attempting sexual assault is a standard for human decency, not quality of personality. She had wished a great deal that she had someone to talk to about it. Twice, she almost brought it up to Diana, but it never felt like the right time for such a personal conversation. Anne didn’t want to be too needy of a friend, especially not so soon in their friendship.

The balance of her whole world came crashing down in a moment. If Anne had known ahead of time, she might have marked the time and date, but there was no way to know. She had been roped into a group lunch with her roommates, and several of Josie’s other friends. The foursome was heading to the café by the library—Josie’s choice, of course—when Anne saw Gilbert wave from across the path. She scowled at him as fiercely as she could, scrunching up her nose for the full effect. 

She heard the footsteps beside her stop, and turned to see the other four girls staring at her in wide-eyed shock. Ruby just sputters. Diana gives Anne an empathetic look. And Josie steps right up to Anne, _You can’t talk to Dr. Blythe. You know that. Ruby_ , Josie points at the other girl, who is on the verge of tears, _is the future Mrs. Blythe. She switched her major from modern languages to nursing for him. Maybe you don’t know how much effort that took, since you weren’t here last year, but it was not an easy thing to do._

Anne looks between the three girls in confusion. _You mean that the gorgeous, unattainable, effortlessly cool “Dr. Blythe” that half the campus is lusting after is my dumb co-worker Gil? Are you crazy? I’m not talking to him; I’m just trying to not get fired!_

Ruby looks up, hopefully, and Anne thanks whatever deity is looking out for her. _He’s your co-worker?_ Anne nods. _You work at Violet Vale, the bar?_ Anne nods again, this time confused, _I didn’t keep that a secret._ This time Diana nods, and adds, _You mentioned it, Anne. I had forgotten where he worked when you said it._ Anne is relieved at the confirmation. 

Josie isn’t helpful at all, _Well, even if you did mention it, I wasn’t listening. Never mind that, if you work there, we can just come by to visit Dr. Blythe—I mean, you, Anne._ Anne cringes a bit at Josie’s smile, but thankfully no one else notices.

 _Gilbert Blythe_ is long gone when they sit down for lunch, and thankfully, Josie and Ruby are too busy discussing the waiter’s profile to bring him up again. Anne quietly chews the poor excuse for a salad that she absentmindedly ordered, and tries her best to brush off Diana’s concern. She can’t let go of the image of Gilbert behind the bar, flirting with customers—flirting with Ruby, laughing about her with Josie—Anne clenches her fist. She was too naïve. Anne repeats what Matthew had told her when the Cuthberts had dropped her off at the beginning of the semester, _The whole world isn’t like Green Gables._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Cosmopolitan - A cosmopolitan, or informally a cosmo, is a cocktail traditionally made with vodka, triple sec, cranberry juice, and freshly squeezed or sweetened lime juice. The variation mentioned here is based on a real drink (so it would actually be served somewhere). 
> 
> Flame – Setting a drink on fire. It’s not recommended to flame drinks unless you are VERY skilled. Bad things can happen! This is included to show Gilbert's bartending prowess! 
> 
> Float – when one alcohol sits on top of another alcohol in a shot glass. (E.g. a B-52 contains Kahlúa (coffee-flavored liqueur), Irish Cream (whiskey and cream-based liqueur), and an orange-flavored liqueur (traditionally a Grand Marnier). Kahlúa is heavier than Irish Cream which is heavier than Grand Marnier so each one floats on the other. This can be done by pouring very carefully down the side of the glass or pouring the floated alcohol over an inverted bar spoon, allowing the alcohol to trickle off the spoon in many directions). Here, Gilbert uses Triple Sec (and almost spills on himself) to parallel the Triple Sec drink that's poured on him later!
> 
> Free Pour – To make and mix drinks without using a measuring device like a jigger or measured pour spout. To pour free of a measuring device, usually straight from a bottle with a non-measured pour spout. This is included to show Anne's technical skill. 
> 
> Liqueur - A liqueur is an alcoholic beverage made from a distilled spirit that has been flavored with fruit, cream, herbs, spices, flowers or nuts and bottled with added sugar or other sweetener.
> 
> Twist – The rind of a lemon (or other citrus fruit) which is peeled using a special peeler called a zester or lemon zestor. The resulting lemon twist is thin and long. This is a popular garnish on many drinks.


End file.
